I was a tad south of incredulous when I heard Justin Bieber had been accused of fathering a child. The kid is what? Twelve? OK, so he’s 17. He looks 12. You’d have some serious issues if you were attracted to that and weren’t 12 yourself, I think.

Bieber is denying it. In promoting his new album, “Under the Mistletoe,” (You kiss under the mistletoe, Justin, not boink), the Beebs told Matt Lauer, “I’d just like to say basically that none of those allegations are true. I know I’m going to be a target, but I’m never going to be a victim.” And then he gave Ann Curry a hickey.

His “beliebers” – tween girls around the world – are stunned and predictably reacted with death tweets (I can’t believe I’m typing these words) against the alleged momster, a 20-year-old by the name of Mariah Yeater. The story goes she was invited backstage by the Beebs’ bodyguards and went into a bathroom with the lad, who told her it was his first time. The liaison lasted all of 30 seconds.

I guess 30 seconds is long enough. Isn’t that how long it took Dolittle’s Raiders to bomb Tokyo?

I have no idea if these accusations are true and frankly I don’t care. If Bieber’s a daddy, he wouldn’t be the first 16-year-old to find himself in that predicament, though he’s probably the richest – and maybe the most fem.

But here’s what I want to know: If it turns out Beebs IS the father, as Maury would declare, will the 20-year-old woman who went into the bathroom with him be charged with sexual battery on a minor? Because she’s a sexual predator. She had sex with a 16-year-old.

And I guarantee you if the roles had been reversed there’d be an outcry. The guy would be lynched in the court of public opinion.

So I’ll be keeping an eye on the “Baby Baby Baby” and his little friend … well, maybe not so little.